


A Fragile Bridge of Trust

by 96percentdone (Nakanaide)



Series: despair fever verse [1]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Anxiety Attacks, Despair Fever, Fluff, M/M, Minor Character Death, One Shot Collection, but y'know what it's fine, hurt comfort, this isn't really a coherent story so much as a collection of snippets in the same verse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-24
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2019-03-08 18:59:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13464513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nakanaide/pseuds/96percentdone
Summary: "There’s a fragile bridge built between he and Saihara-chan. It’s so thin it could snap. One wrong move at it would shatter into pieces, but—it’s there."An canon divergence AU where the chapter 3 motive is despair fever, and Ouma has the honesty fever. Reposted from my tumblr.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! You might recognise these either from my [tumblr](http://96percentdone.tumblr.com/) or [Oumasai Oneshots](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12819468/chapters/29266371), where you can also find all of these. I just decided to put all of here for organization purposes and since they're their own verse. Any and all updates of this verse will be here instead of Oumasai Oneshots. I just won't delete them from there either because it'd delete the comments, and I want to keep those. 
> 
> The other thing of note is that these chapters may get reorganized occasionally as the timeline updates, but know the last one will always be the latest one I wrote.

Ouma can’t keep hiding in his room. He hasn’t eaten in over a day and his food stash is out, and he’s  _sick_ with this stupid despair fever Monokuma gave him.  _This wouldn’t have been an issue if I was still able to lie,_ he thinks, lying in his messy bed staring at the ceiling. But he’s not. The fever took that away from him. The fever took  _everything_ from him.

A loud growl pierces the silence of the room. He can almost feel his stomach eating itself. He  _needs_ to eat. He really, really needs to eat. If he doesn’t eat, he will  _die,_ and then what was the point?

He glances at the clock. It’s five after nine. The dining hall closes in an hour.  _Hmm…_ It’s hard to make calculations when you haven’t seen anyone in days.  _More than one of us is sick for this to be an effective motive. Monokuma wouldn’t just bank on me, so I’d assume at least two more of us are sick, and they’re probably being tended to right now._ They’ve tried getting to him too but he’s locked the door and ignored the ringing doorbell.  _It’s unlikely anyone is in the dining hall this late under these circumstances._

Another growl, and he sighs, dragging himself out of his bed onto unsteady feet.  _I have no choice but to take the risk._

It takes far too long to actually get to the dining hall. He spends far too much time leaning on walls in an attempt not to fall. It’s lucky no one was around. Still, the doors are in his sight.  _Finally_ , he thinks, collapsing against the door. His hand fails to grab the door handle three times before he manages to get the door open.

When the door opens he finds the table already has food set up for him. It’s…sweets. A lot of sweets. Every sugary substance under the sun, and one lone soup. “I thought you would have to come out at some point,” a voice breaks him out of his stupor. Saihara-chan. _I’ve been caught_.

 _I can’t believe I forgot to do something as simple as factor you in, Saihara-chan. I really am sick._ Ouma wants to play everything off like it’s fine. Like he wasn’t forced to derail all of his plans, or that he’s sick, but god it’s so hard to stand. Not to mention he knows his own outfit hasn’t been on correctly for the past day, and he’s forgotten what a hairbrush was, and there’s definitely bags under his eyes from a lack of sleep. There’s no faking his way out of this, but he’s determined to try.

Ouma’s legs give out beneath him as soon as he gets to the chair, and it takes everything to not just rest his head in the bowl of soup and sleep. “Saihara-chan, you set up a feast for me? I didn’t think you cared that much~” It sounds fake and exhausted even to himself, but he’s desperate. _Take the bait._

Saihara-chan’s eyes widen, and Ouma thinks he might spot concern, before they settle right back into a determined gaze. “You’re not going to be able to distract me, Ouma-kun,” he says.  _Worth a shot._ “You should eat. I can tell you haven’t.”

He  _should._ He’s  _starving,_ but sticking around even for the food he needs is also a risk, even if it’s one he has to take. Not to mention his legs seem to have completely given up for the time being. Slowly, he grabs a spoon, and starts picking at the food before him, gradually picking up speed the more he eats. The dining hall is quiet except for the sound of silverware clinking against bowls.

He’s about to wolf down this frankly  _stunning_ looking piece of chocolate cake when Saihara-chan speaks again. “I think I’ve figured it out.” Ouma almost drops his fork back on the table.

 _I doubt it,_ but he’s not going to say that out loud. Instead he’s going to play dumb. Just because he can’t lie, doesn’t mean he can’t act. “Figured what out? One of Yumeno-chan’s magic tricks? I–”

“Why you’ve locked yourself in your room,” Saihara-chan cuts him off without a hint of doubt. “I’ve figured you out,” he repeats, arms folded. He hasn’t turned away from Ouma once.

“Oh?” Ouma is unconsciously tapping his fork against the table, but he’s at a loss for words. There’s no evasive remark, no teasing comment, nothing. Time slows down as his heart rate speeds up.

“I’ve done some thinking. You’ve been locked in your room since the day the motive was introduced. Momota-kun did something similar. His despair fever manifested in the form of extreme paranoia, but that can’t be you. You’ve made it clear from the start you aren’t trusting.”

Every one of Saihara-chan’s words is stabbing through the walls in Ouma’s mind. He’s squeezing the fork so tightly it could break.

Saihara-chan continues without care, confidence and determination growing in his voice. “I haven’t seen you, but I have seen Momota-kun and Chabashira-san. I know how the fever affected them. It turned them into their opposite; the person they’d least like to be. And you locked yourself in your room because you have it, meaning however this fever affected you, you didn’t want us to know. Your absence is as loud as your presence. I can only assume your fever is somehow inconvenient for you.”

 _Stop._ The metal edges of the fork are almost stabbing into his skin. His heart is pounding in his ears. It’s so so  _loud_ but Saihara-chan’s voice is louder. Saihara-chan hasn’t broken eye contact once, and Ouma desperately wishes he could.

“There’s only one thing I can think of that would throw you off this much. Something that thoroughly defines you.”  _Stop!_ “Ouma-kun,” a pause.

Ouma’s heart pounds. Thump. Thump. Thump.

“You can’t lie, can you?” Saihara-chan asks, and the question pierces through all the static and panic building in Ouma’s mind.

Something shatters. “Heh.” Ouma’s snort turns into a chuckle, then into an empty laugh. Saihara-chan leans back, startled, as if this isn’t what he was expecting, and the empty laugh fills the dining hall. “You really are quite the detective, Saihara-chan.”

“So, I was right?” Saihara-chan asks, visibly relaxing back into his seat. His brows are furrowed in concern.

“Yep! You got me. I can’t lie.” It’s just as fake and empty as before. “Still,” Ouma starts, propping his head up on his arm. “just because I’m forced to tell the truth, doesn’t mean it means anything.”

“No, it has to.” Saihara-chan shakes his head. “Your lies have to have a much larger purpose if not being able to tell them forced you into hiding. You don’t just lie for no reason. You want to accomplish something.”

“And what would that be?” Ouma asks, too tired to regret it. He’s given up.

“I don’t know.”

“Huh?”

“I can’t figure that much out from here. I was hoping you would tell me,” Saihara-chan offers weakly, but the confidence in his pose hasn’t faded.

“And why would I do that?” Annoyance seeps into Ouma’s voice.

“Because now that I know lying is central to your plan, it’ll be a lot harder for you to pull off without me figuring it out. And I will figure it out,” Saihara-chan asserts, and Ouma can’t look him in the eyes anymore.

“I don’t want to tell you.”

“What?”

“I said, I don’t want to tell you!” Ouma bursts, with clenched fists while glaring at the floor. He’s just being stubborn. He knows this. He’s cornered. Saihara-chan’s put him in check and he doesn’t see himself finding a way out. He can only prolong checkmate but he doesn’t want to let go. He can’t. He’s been working towards this for so long—he has to do this to save everyone! He has to!  _I have to ruin this killing game!_ It’s the only way he can.

A tentative hand rests on his shoulder. Ouma didn’t notice he was shaking until now. “Ouma-kun.” He unwittingly looks up at his name to Saihara-chan’s concerned golden eyes.

“You’re really determined to make me tell you, huh?” Ouma’s voice quivers. He hates that he couldn’t stop himself. He hates that he’s still shaking. He hates how obvious he is right now. His mask is utterly gone.

“I don’t want to make you do anything.” Saihara-chan smiles weakly, looking away. “I’m not really good at confronting people, like Momota-kun is. It’s a lot easier for me to just solve the mystery than it is to talk to people, but….I don’t know. I don’t want to figure this out just from doubting you. I’d like it if you trusted me.”

_‘I’d like it if you trusted me.’_

_‘Trusted me’_

_‘Trust’_

“….I wanted you to hate me.” Ouma mutters. It’s barely audible, but Saihara-chan seems to understand because his eyes widen in shock. “My whole plan was to be as untrustworthy as possible so all of you would hate me. Once I put together the truth of this school I would present myself as the ringleader. The role of the villain is perfect for me, and since none of you would trust me, you’d believe it.” He aimlessly stabs into the chocolate cake over and over as he explains.

“Why?”

The cake is transforming into a crumby chocolate mess. So much for eating it. “I thought by doing so I could forcibly end the killing game. Usurp power from the ringleader, unite all of you against a common enemy, get rid of all incentive to kill…something like that.” He doesn’t know why he’s telling Saihara-chan. He knows that trusting people is a huge risk. Maybe Saihara-chan is the ringleader, and he’s just stepped into a huge trap. Ouma’s logical mind is  _screaming_ at him that this is a mistake. A  _huge_ mistake.

But he’s so  _tired._ Maybe it’s just because he’s sick with the despair fever, or maybe because he’s still feeling weak from a lack of food, or maybe it’s because of the way Saihara-chan is looking at him. Maybe it’s all three, but he doesn’t want to fight himself anymore. He’s tired of worrying about risks and ringleaders and betrayals—he’s tired of being alone.

“You want…to end this killing game?” Saihara-chan asks like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “But, why take it on by yourself? Why not work together with—”

“You saw what happened to Akamatsu-chan after she united everyone. The ringleader took immediate action.” Ouma sighs. “Besides, one of you is the ringleader. I couldn’t risk the ringleader interfering. Even you might be the ringleader, Saihara-chan, although I doubt it. You’re hard to predict but that almost makes you reliable.” Endearing, he doesn’t say.

Saihara-chan doesn’t respond, finger pressed to his lips with a thoughtful expression. Ouma can see him put the pieces of the puzzle together in his mind. Watching the dots connect.

“I have to ruin this killing game. I’d do anything to accomplish that—even die. Although,” Ouma laughs, and he can taste the bitterness on his tongue. “I suppose I can’t do anything now.”

“We’ll think of something else,” Saihara-chan declares, and Ouma is dumbstruck by how confident Saihara-chan is in his words. “Maybe not all of us together, because you’re right. We can’t trust everyone but…I have to believe something can still be done. You won’t have to do this alone.”

“Saihara-chan—”

“I… Thank you. For trusting me with this.” Saihara-chan smiles, slight and soft and sweet. “I’m really glad I didn’t have to force this out of you.”

“I’m surprised you believed me so easily. I could have lied about having the honesty fever, you know.” Ouma responds, and maybe on another day it would sound much more flippant, but he’s exhausted.

“You could be, but we’ve gotten this far. And I don’t think any of how you reacted was fake. Besides, I chose to believe you because…that’s what I want to believe.”  _Momota-chan clearly rubbed off on you._ Saihara-chan may seem meek and insecure, but right now he’s never been brighter.  _I wonder how he can’t see it himself?_ “I’m really glad you decided to trust me.”

Trust. He…trusts Saihara-chan, despite all the risk. He should be more upset that all he’s worked towards has been so easily thrown into the trash, but he’s not. He should be scared, or desperately attempting to backpedal, but he’s not. He’s not anything at all but in awe. In awe of Saihara-chan, and the hand he’s reaching out towards him.

There’s a fragile bridge built between he and Saihara-chan. It’s so thin it could snap. One wrong move at it would shatter into pieces, but—it’s there. It’s  _there._ He’s not isolated anymore. Something warm flutters in his chest.

He should be surprised with himself for taking that hand. He should be surprised, and scared, and upset, and apathetic, and anything but happy, but he’s not. Saihara-chan’s hand is warm and Ouma is…glad.

“Me too.”


	2. Chapter 2

Ouma-kun, even when sick with the fever, still has a surprising amount of energy to be running around the school like this. It’s past midnight and they’re still exploring the school.  _ It’s almost impressive how much he can make himself do… _

They’re zipping back through the second floor when–The door to classroom 2B is a crack open.  _ That wasn’t like that before.  _ “Ouma-kun.”  

Ouma-kun stops, frowning. “We should investigate that.” His voice lacks the usual childish glee, before he rushes to the door, leaving Saihara in his dust. 

“Wait!” Saihara scrambles to catch up, as Ouma-kun pushes the door open. 

“I knew it,” Ouma-kun whispers. Saihara’s eyes are slowly drawn from the swaying shadow on the floor to the silhouette floating in the center of the room.

There was someone hanging from one of the rafters. 

_ No.  _ A giant piano.  _ N-no– _ A chain.  _ Not again!  _ Akamatsu-san– _ NO! _ Relentless image after image of that first execution flooding his thoughts–Saihara stumbles backward. 

“We need to go. The culprit might…”

Ouma-kun fades out as Saihara collapses. Everything is foggy and distant like he’s underwater. He can’t breathe. It’s all going white except for that dark silhouette. Just hanging there, drifting back and forth, hanging hanging  _ hanging–Akamatsu-san!  _ He can’t watch that again, the way she was hanging there, lifelessly, killed for all to see– _ Not again not again  _ **_not again!_ **

“Saihara-chan?” Is that his name? He can’t hear anything over the static, constant ear-ringing static. There’s nothing but the noise and hanging corpse–it’s so  _ so hard to breathe–  _

He thinks he hears something drop before him, and all he can think of is the body hitting the floor like a discarded rag–“Look at me.” Hands firmly grip his shoulders before dropping them as if they burned, but it was something outside all the fuzz and static. The world is blurry–oh so blurry. “Look at me–just–breathe, okay?” Purple eyes take up his vision. 

Reflexively Saihara backs up and looks away, but it’s still hanging there, the dead body, and the static is coming back louder–but then someone’s in front of him again. “Look at me, okay? just–fucki–focus on me. And breathe.” There’s a frustrated mutter that Saihara can’t make out over his speeding heartbeat. The world is distorted, but there  _ is  _ a world. It’s not just a white void. There’s air.  _ I should–I need to– _

“Breathe.”

Inhale.

Exhale. 

“That’s it, just–breathe.”

Inhale.

Exhale.

Over. And over. And over. The static slowly fades away; the world slowly comes into focus. 

There’s white, but this time it’s fabric, frayed at the edges.  _ That’s right. I was– _ Saihara lifts his head. Sitting before him, panic clear in his eyes, was Ouma-kun. “Saihara-chan?” He asks, so quietly like if he asks any louder, everything will shatter. 

There’s still the body hanging there in the corner of his eye– _ breathe.  _ It’s not happening again.  _ Inhale.  _ This isn’t her execution again.  _ Exhale.  _ That’s not Akamatsu-san. “I–I’m okay.”

Ouma-kun doesn’t look convinced, but doesn’t voice it. Instead he slumps in relief. “You scared the crap out of me.” 

“I’m sorry.” Saihara bows his head. 

“That’s–don’t apologize for that.” Ouma-kun’s fists are balled. “If anyone should apologize–” He sighs. “Never mind.”

“I…we probably should go” They’re the only ones who know someone’s died. A quick glance at the body confirms it’s Shinguuji-kun.  _ So there’s been a murder… _

He’s about to rise on unsteady legs when an already standing Ouma-kun holds out his hand. “I don’t need you collapsing on me again,” he says with a grin, but the concern in his eyes is still there. He takes the hand offered to him, and Ouma-kun pulls him up. 

“Thanks. Not just for helping me up, but,” Saihara fumbles with words. “Just–thank you.” It’s soft, but it’s true. That Ouma-kun would try–would  _ stay– _ It’s an aspect of the seemingly carefree supreme leader he didn’t expect, but he’s grateful. 

Ouma-kun spins on his heel and marches to the door. “Well! We should head back. We’ll deal with this tomorrow. It’s not like we have a good excuse to explain why we were together in the middle of the night with a body, now do we?” Saihara can almost laugh at how quickly he’s resumed his usual attitude.

Just before he leaves, he pauses at the door. Barely above a whisper: “I’m glad you’re okay.” And Saihara knows that’s not a lie.


	3. Chapter 3

“If there’s no victim, there’s no game!” Ouma-kun shouts that morning in the dining hall, a wicked grin spread across his face. Everyone in the dining hall is astonished—everyone except Saihara. Ouma-kun never dropped his plan, even after debating it throughout that initial night, he'd already decided:

 _“Well,” Ouma-kun breaks the silence, swinging his feet back and forth, “what if I stick to my plan, but you and I investigate together in secret? The investigation might be a lot more successful if we work together. And I make a good distraction, don’t I?” Ouma-_ kun _wears a playful grin, and Saihara only just realizes how much he missed seeing it._

Saihara reluctantly accepted, and in the days since that night the two of them have spent a lot more time together. Nights spent exploring the school with Ouma-kun practically dragging Saihara around by the wrist, or sitting next to each other discussing Ouma-kun’s increasingly chaotic whiteboard of notes. He’s not sure what he’d call it, but there’s something comforting about the contemplative but mischievous supreme leader.

But it’s still so jarring to see Ouma-kun’s act during the day. He’s loud and cruel and almost demonic. Like he cares about nothing except other people’s despair. Saihara can’t help but wonder where he can pull this façade from.

“Someone, hurry up and start the next killing! Because if not… I'll go ahead and kill someone!” Ouma-kun declares, challenging the room with open arms. _I really wish you wouldn’t do that,_ Saihara thinks, but Ouma-kun has committed to the bit and Saihara can’t stop him.

It’s not surprising when Momota-kun punches him, but Saihara can’t keep himself from wincing even if everyone else gasps. Ouma-kun stumbles, but doesn’t fall over. Saihara wants to do something about the welt blossoming on Ouma’s cheek, but he can’t. All he can do is watch as Momota-kun shouts and scolds, unable to act on all of his concern.

Finally Momota-kun relents. “Ouma, I really hope for your sake, you’re just putting on a performance.” Ouma-kun says absolutely nothing, just letting the despair shadow over his eyes speak for him. Saihara wishes he could tell Momota-kun just how _right_ he was. He wishes he could do anything to stop this. But he can’t—he’s powerless.

He can’t bring himself to say anything when Gonta-kun decides to fight Monokuma. In fact he just kind of tunes out the entire tense conversation going on around him, eyes trained solely on Ouma-kun. Ouma-kun hasn’t moved or changed expression since he got punched. Saihara’s desperate to ask what’s wrong—why hasn’t he rebounded like normal? Or left? Or done something—anything! He’s desperate to be able to do something, but he can’t.

With tension still thick in the air, everyone slowly disperses, and only three of them are left. “Shuuichi?” Momota-kun asks, walking over to Saihara and his unfinished meal. “You doin’ alright? You haven’t said anything in awhile.”

The obvious answer is _‘No, I’m really concerned about Ouma-kun because we’re secretly working together and you just punched him and he’s behaving strangely now and I can’t do anything because you’re still here,’_ but he can’t say that. Besides, it’s not fair to snap at Momota-kun for this—he’s just concerned after all. They’re friends. “Ah, no, I’m just thinking.” Saihara’s smile is as weak as his technical truth.

“About him?” Momota-kun gestures towards Ouma-kun, brow furrowed. “Can’t blame you. I don’t get what’s up with him either.” Saihara almost wants to laugh at that, but instead just nods along. “But,” Momota-kun sighs, holding the back of his head, “thinkin’ too long and hard about whatever he’s up to is probably just gonna stress you out more. Don’t overdo it, alright? I can’t have my sidekick overworking himself.”

“Yeah, I know. Thank you, Momota-kun.” Saihara smiles, but this time it’s less forced. Maybe one day he’ll be able to tell him the truth.

Momota-kun’s grin is as bright as always. “I’ll see ya later, Shuuichi,” he says, giving Saihara one final pat on the back before leaving. The door closes with a click.

“Fiiiiiinally, I thought he’d never leave!” Saihara turns back around to find Ouma-kun smiling widely like nothing is wrong. He can’t help but stare dumbstruck at Ouma-kun’s sudden switch in attitude. “Ow, nope! The muscles in my cheek did _not_ like that…” He frowns, rubbing at the red welt on his face.

Saihara shakes his head. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back,” he says, before leaving to grab an ice pack from the kitchen. When he comes back Ouma-kun hasn’t moved, still rubbing at his bruised face. “Here,” he says, gently holding the ice-pack against Ouma-kun’s cheek.

Ouma-kun blinks, mouth slightly agape. Saihara can’t decipher what Ouma-kun mouths to himself, but it’s impossible to miss the gentle smile that comes after. “I didn’t think Saihara-chan was so eager to take care of me.” There’s a teasing lilt in Ouma-kun’s voice, but it’s soft, like his gaze.

“Ah! Um,” Saihara can’t stop the heat building up in his cheeks, “I mean, you can do it yourself, if you want!” He stammers, offering the ice pack to the purple haired boy, unable to make eye contact.

“Hmm…” Ouma-kun frowns, as if seriously pondering whether to take the ice pack or not. “I think I like it better when you take care of me~”

Saihara can’t help but roll his eyes, but goes back to tending to Ouma-kun’s face anyway. “Is that a lie?”

“You tell me,” Ouma-kun says, but there’s something almost blissful in his expression.

_“Nishishi~!” Ouma-kun giggles with a joyful smile, as if Saihara bandaging his cut hand is all he wanted._

_Ah._ Saihara doesn’t respond, but knows his silence speaks for him. Ouma-kun’s gaze is contemplative but the soft smile from earlier remains. It’s quiet, but it’s comfortable. Saihara knows they’ll have to leave soon, especially if they don’t want to get caught, but right now…he’s content to stay like this.


	4. Chapter 4

It’s the middle of the night when they finally make it back to Ouma-kun’s messy room. Ouma-kun crashes on his bed after closing the door. “Who knew permanently crashing a computer would take soooo much effort?” he yawns, face pressed up against the mattress. “Sleepy…”

Saihara ignores him, instead analyzing the chaotic whiteboard. _ I think we can probably take Iruma-san off the list _ , he thinks, moving her portrait off further to the side. After all, why would she plan a murder if she was the ringleader? “This is fine, right?”

“mmh?” Ouma-kun responds, muffled by the mattress before turning his head to face Saihara. “Yeah that’s fine…” 

Saihara nods in acknowledgement, still staring at the board. Portraits are paired off together with doodles for every murder.  _ Just think, there could have been another one _ . He’s glad they avoided that, but something still bothers him. 

Saihara turns to face the half asleep supreme leader on the bed. They were able to thwart this together because of their alliance. They prevented a murder, but…what if they weren’t? Maybe he’s not that awake himself if he’s thinking about hypotheticals, but it won’t leave his head. “Say, Ouma-kun…how would you have handled this by yourself? I mean, if we weren’t working together.”

“I don’t know.” Ouma-kun rolls over and stretches. “Might have planned a murder,” he says, expressionless, before yawning out, “Who knows. Haven’t really thought about it.”  _ That’s a lie _ , Saihara thinks,  _ you’ve clearly thought about it _ . Ouma-kun curls up on his side. “I don’t want to think about what I’d be like without you, Saihara-chan.” It’s so quiet; it’s almost a whisper. 

A murder…They’ve just avoided one; he’d rather not entertain the idea his partner would plan his own crime. An Ouma-kun so isolated and suspicious that he’d stoop to murder–Saihara shakes his head. “Me neither.”


	5. Chapter 5

“Will you pick the right choice? Or the dreadfully wrong one?”

_ No.  _

“Now, it’s voting time!”

_ No no no! _

The victory jingle plays as the roulette stops on Saihara-chan. Monokuma laughs. “You’re correct yet again! The blackened for this case is Saihara Shuuichi-kun!”

_ No! He’s not!  _ **_He’s not!! DON’T–_ **

“Now then, let’s give it everything we’ve got! It’s punishment time!”

_ Wait! _

The chain descends from the ceiling cuffing terrified, petrified, and confused Saihara-chan around the neck.

**_Wait!_ **

It drags him up in the air and nobody has time to scream or cry or react–

**_STOP!!!_ **

Ouma wakes up enveloped in blankets and darkness and sweat.  _ A dream… _ Of course it was a dream. It was too incoherent and rushed to be real. There’s absolutely no way that could have happened. Saihara-chan is fine. 

He rolls back over on his side and closes his eyes, but sleep doesn’t retake him. It’s too late, his brain is already awake and active.  _ He hasn’t been executed. There hasn’t even been a murder. Go to bed. Saihara-chan is  _ **_fine._ **

But the little voice in his brain won’t shut up. It all felt too real, even if it was so clearly fake. Saihara-chan might not have been executed, but he could be. The ringleader could be setting him up for murder right now–scratch that. They could just kill him. They could kill him right now and set Ouma up for it. It’d be so easy with all their resources; and they’d be powerless– _ Shut up! _ Ouma internally groans, slamming his head on the pillow for emphasis.  _ Just sleep.  _

And yet he still finds himself picking the lock to Saihara-chan’s room, not even five minutes later. The needles feel almost slippery in his hands, _why is this taking so long?_ _You’ve done this before! Come on!_ A click, and the door unlocks.

Ouma slips into the dark room, carefully shutting the door behind him so only a crack of light remains. He doesn’t plan on staying long. Just long enough to make sure Saihara-chan is alright. Once he verifies Saihara-chan is in here asleep, he’ll leave, and then he’ll sleep himself without his stupid brain over–

“Ouma-kun?”

_ Fuck. _ The door shuts behind him. “Saihara-chan!” Ouma greets, flipping the lights on. He can at least pretend to have come here with a purpose.

“Why…are you…” Saihara-chan slowly sits up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.  _ He’s adorable. _ “Why are you here…? It’s late.” He asks, sleep still coating his voice.

“Maybe I’m here to kill you!” Ouma snickers, strolling away from the doorway into the room. Lies roll so easily off his tongue. “It’d be so easy to betray you, you know.”

“You don’t have a weapon, and even if you were out to strangle me, I doubt we’d be talking about it so casually.” Saihara half yawns.  _ Still quick witted, even when half asleep. _

“That’s true!” Ouma flops on the blue arm chair. “Okaaay, I’m not here to kill you. Actually the truth is I’ve realized something important.”

“And it couldn’t wait until morning?” Saihara-chan asks, eyebrow raised.

“Nope~!” Ouma yawns, and his ‘I’m totally awake I promise’ facade comes crumbling down.  _ It’s fine. You can still pass this off as just yawns being contagious. _ “Besides, it’s technically four in the morning right now, sooo…”

“Why are you really here?” To the point as always. 

“Didn’t I just tell you?” Ouma places a finger against his cheek; a practiced expression. “I have something urgent to tell you.”

“No you don’t. You weren’t up thinking.” Saihara-chan pushes himself forward and seats himself at the edge of the bed. “You’re paler than usual, and sweaty, and with bags under your eyes, so you most likely were asleep, but didn’t sleep well, but I don’t know why that brings you here.”

“Aww, it’s four in the morning! Couldn’t you just give it a rest with the detective work?” Ouma whines. Saihara-chan’s glare says ‘you woke me up so deal with it’ for him. Ouma heaves a sigh. “Alright fine. It’s nothing urgent. I just wanted to see you.”

“At four in the morning?”

“Am I not allowed to want to visit my beloved Saihara-chan?”

Saihara-chan’s cheeks turn pink, but he quickly turns back into the cool-headed detective. “You wouldn’t randomly come visit me; everything you do has purpose.”  _ You know me too well.  _ “You really don’t have to keep lying to me.” His words are softer now. “I know lying is, well…your thing, but you don’t need to keep it up around me all the time. It’s okay.”

_ Oh, _ and Ouma can’t help but remember that fateful encounter in the dining hall. “Heh. You’re really something…” Ouma half breathes, half mutters. It’s amazing how Saihara-chan manages to say the exact words to break past Ouma’s defenses. “Well, if you really want to know…” Ouma leans back in the chair, carefully putting together the words in his mind. “I had a nightmare about you and…” the words are rough and quiet coming from his mouth. “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.” It’s so hard for him to be honest.

Saihara-chan’s expression shifts into one of realization, As if all the pieces of the puzzle just clicked together. Pink still dusts his cheeks. “I see….” He inches closer to Ouma, fiddling with his hands. “Well I’m alright. Nothing’s happened to me.”

_ For now. _ Ouma knows it’s meant to be reassuring, but the anxieties that plagued him before bubble right back up in his chest. Sure, Saihara-chan is here right now, he’s alive right now, but who knows when that will change? This is a killing game, and it’d be so easy for the ringleader to figure them out!  _ You’re safe right now, but– _

“What do you think is going to happen to me?” Saihara-chan’s words are cutting, and only then is Ouma aware he said that out loud.

“Anything. This is a killing game after all. Even ignoring that any one of our classmates could strike at any time, you and I just foiled a murder attempt.” The words are tumbling out of his mouth faster than he can think them, never mind stop them. “We’ve directly interfered with the ringleader’s intentions for the game. They’re not going to like that; they’ll want us out of the way. They could kill you, or better yet, frame you for murder and have you executed!” He’s gripping the chair so tightly his knuckles turn white. 

Saihara-chan waits patiently for him to finish, with concerned, contemplative eyes.

“I don’t care what they do to me. I’m prepared for it. I’m willing to die if it means ending this killing game. But I can’t–” Ouma lets out a shaky breath. “I can’t have you die on my account.”  _ I can’t lose you. _ He wishes his shoulders would stop trembling. 

“Nothing is going to happen to me.” Saihara-chan asserts, with the confidence he reserves for his deductions. His gaze pierces directly into Ouma’s soul. “I was well aware of what I agreed to when I made my alliance with you. I know all the risks of actively working against the ringleader. But I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t think that I–that we could handle it.” He tentatively reaches out and places his hand over one of Ouma’s tense ones. “If they do anything, we’ll take care of it.”

He doesn’t have a response to that. He’s not sure where Saihara-chan’s unwavering faith comes from–there’s always so much that can go wrong at any time. It’s something he’s never allowed to forget. Even right now underneath their noses the ringleader could be watching them and plotting, and they’d be none the wiser. There’s no way to guarantee their safety, that they’ll be fine, but if Saihara-chan so firmly believes it, maybe he can try to.

“Okay,” he whispers, and Saihara-chan smiles. The slightest amount of his doubt melts. 

“Well!” Ouma jumps up from the arm chair and stretches, ignoring Saihara-chan’s startled look. “This has been fun,”  _ if by fun I mean emotionally taxing, _ “but I really should go and get some sleep now! I’ll need all the rest I can get before I deal with an angry Iruma-chan tomorrow, so good night Saihara-chan~” he says, skipping towards the door as if he didn’t just unload all his fears at once three seconds ago.

“One more thing before you go,” Saihara-chan says, and Ouma pauses, hand on the door. “You might not care about what happens to you, but I do. We’re partners after all, right?”

He didn’t turn around, so he has no idea what face Saihara-chan is making, but he imagines it’s as gentle as his voice was. His heart beats loudly in his chest. 

“Yeah.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This takes place immediately after the first chapter.

Ouma-kun didn’t eat that much after their conversation in the dining hall. Saihara can’t tell if he overgorged himself on sweets, or if he’s just too sick, or maybe he’s emotionally overwhelmed, but regardless they head back to the dorms to come up with some kind of plan.

The walk itself is quiet. Saihara glances ahead at Ouma-kun. Ouma-kun walks forward, back straight, running his fingers against walls or anything he can find, but Saihara doesn’t miss the way his hand occasionally flattens as if to keep him propped up. Even after eating his legs aren’t steady.  _ Well, he did hide in his room for two days. _

The door to the dormitories opens with a weak pull, and Saihara follows Ouma-kun in and up the stairs. “Your room then?” It’s less a question and more a confirmation.

Ouma-kun spins on his heel towards him, wobbling just a little too far forward and straightens out with a shrug. “Might as well since you’ve cornered me anyway!” And then he turns back to the door, lock-picking tools in hand, and gets to work.  _ Lockpicking…?  _ Does Ouma-kun’s distrust go this far he won’t use his key?

But the door clicks open, and Ouma-kun flips the lights on expertly weaving his way to his bed. And it really is weaving. Ouma-kun’s room is a chaotic labyrinth of boxes, evidence, and papers strewn across the floor with no care for the concept of walking. Saihara enters balancing on tip-toes managing to make his way to the chair and sits.

Ouma-kun is flopped on the bed blankly gazing at the ceiling. “Sooooo…” he flips onto his stomach and props his chin in his hands, watching Saihara with expectant eyes. “What’s your brilliant plan detective? How do you plan to catch the ringleader and end the killing game?”

Saihara furrows his brow with a frown. He didn’t actually have a plan for this. His goal for today was to confront Ouma-kun to find out what he’s up to, but afterward …nothing. What could he expect from that conversation? That Ouma-kun’s just messing with them for fun? Maybe he really is malicious? Maybe he just doesn’t know how to cooperate properly so he behaves like this and there was no plan. But that didn’t happen. He wants to end the killing game, and it’s as much of a surprise as it is natural. Like a puzzle piece you didn’t expect to fit, but once it’s in the picture makes more sense.

“I didn’t have a plan.” Saihara avoids Ouma-kun’s eyes by staring at the inner tube on the floor. “Besides my last plan…didn’t exactly work out.” Akamatsu-san’s corpse still hangs in his mind.

Ouma-kun sits up and sighs through pursed lips. “You sure make grand promises for someone who has no plan.”

“I never said I had a plan.”

“I know.” Ouma-kun sighs yet again, swinging his feet over the edge of the bed. “Well, we definitely can’t plan around that library door. The ringleader  _ super  _ knows we’re aware of it now.”

“Yeah,” Saihara agrees quietly, leaning forward in the chair and pressing a hand to his mouth in thought. The room falls into silence. What exactly can they do? They have no leads or clues, the door won’t work anymore, and Monokuma hasn’t presented an opportunity they can play off of. The best they can do is try and force a slip-up and work from there. But how?

“Well,” Ouma-kun breaks the silence, swinging his feet back and forth, “what if I stick to my plan, but you and I investigate together in secret? The investigation might be a lot more successful if we work together. And I make a good distraction, don’t I?” Ouma-kun wears a playful grin, and Saihara only just realizes how much he missed seeing it.

“No,” Saihara says, straightening back out and returning Ouma-kun’s gaze. He’s already gotten this far in getting Ouma-kun to admit to his true intentions, having him stick to his original plan with a minor twist just feels like a waste. “I’d rather not resort to that unless we have to.”

“Do you have a better plan?” Ouma-kun counters. His grin isn’t gone but his expression is pointed. As if he knows Saihara doesn’t.

“I just…” Saihara grips his pants sleeve tightly with his hands, “there has to be a better plan that doesn’t involve you villainizing yourself.” Ouma-kun’s plan while effective is cruel. He’d wear a black and white mask of thorns, and everyone would stone him not realizing it’s a mask. In another universe, Saihara throws the first stone. That can’t happen here. “Do you really want everyone to assume the worst of you? Momota-kun and Harukawa-san already kind of…” he doesn’t finish that. Ouma-kun doesn’t need to hear the words they’ve said.

For a moment, Ouma-kun doesn’t say anything, only gazes at Saihara with a blank expression. His eyes bore right into Saihara’s soul. Then he shrugs. “I don’t really care what they think. If what they said or thought meant anything, I wouldn’t have this as a plan, right?” It’s right here that Saihara realizes just how deep Ouma-kun’s innate distrust goes. It is the base in the foundation of his plan, cracked and unhealthy, and rooted in every move he makes.

“Well maybe you should,” Saihara doesn’t back down, even if the fabric in his hands is so taut it could tear. Ouma-kun looks ready to say something, but Saihara isn’t finished. “Your plan would have isolated you. Possibly forever if the ringleader just let you take over. You could have lived the rest of your life alone and hated. Is that really what you want?”

There is no answer. Ouma-kun’s mouth opens as if he wants to say something, and closes immediately afterward. Whatever he wants to say, he can’t. He can’t lie, and so his silence speaks for him. Eventually, he leans back with a sigh, crossing his legs. “Does it matter? The plan’s been revised now, right? I have to account for you now, y’know?” He tilts his head, and makes eye-contact.

And now Saihara is at a loss for words. Ouma-kun is right. Even if his old plan is repurposed, it wouldn’t be the same because ultimately they have an alliance. Ouma-kun can wear that thorny mask and be stoned by day, but he’d have someone to talk to at night. It’s not a lonely path anymore. Saihara personally made sure of that himself.

“There isn’t any better plan either,” Ouma-kun continues, pushing himself back in his bed so only his feet hang off the mattress. “If I’m a sufficient distraction, the ringleader will have to do something to deal with me, and then we can strike. It’s a perfect means to force their hands!” He’s grinning again like he wasn’t just confronted with his own fears.

He’s right. Saihara knows all of that. This is an effective plan, and no one has to suffer, but it doesn’t sit right, like a full glass of water that’s hanging off the edge of the table. One wrong move and it will crash to the floor. But they don’t have any better plans, even if Saihara like it. “….Alright.” Ouma-kun claps his hands together to celebrate, and Saihara continues. “But…if I think of something better, we’re doing that instead, okay?”

“Fine,” Ouma-kun agrees. He’s still smiling but it smoother around the edges. “Nishishi~! Saihara-chan is suuuure invested in my reputation!”

Saihara shakes his head, and the grip on his pants relents. “It’s not just that. I think if I can encourage you to trust people just a little more, then that’s enough. That’s the reason your plan was like that, to begin with, right?” He offers hesitantly, unsure of his deductions.

“….yeah.” It’s a quiet response, and Ouma-kun flops back on his bed. “But y’know,” he folds his arms behind his head, staring up at the boring ceiling, “I never said I wouldn’t trust anyone.”

Saihara smiles, light and sincere. “I’m glad to hear that.” 


End file.
